"True, worthy Doctor," answered Jobson; "yet the knaves often get uppermost in this world, and so won't own themselves to be scoundrels, which is what provokes me. But the times will come when we shall tell them a bit of our minds again; and then I suppose my wife will leave the preacher, and want me to take her in again; but no, no, Madam, says I, there's two words to that bargain. Does Your Reverence know, that though I never rose higher yet than to be an officer's servant, I am to be a yeoman of the guard. His Highness the King, as now ought to be, promised, when he was only Prince of Wales, that when he came to live in Whitehall, he'd make me one of the Beaf-eaters: bless his generous heart! he'd have made me any thing I asked, but I never was ambitious. So, please Your Majesty's Highness sweet Prince, says I, let me be a Beef-eater as long as I live. This was when I was in the boat with him, as he went to Sicily from Pendennis-Castle. 'Twas the last time he set his foot on English ground, said he must think of his word when he comes back with the crown on his head."
By this time Isabel and Constantia had concerted a retreat for Jobson in the mausoleum, which, having been recently searched, was not likely soon to excite the suspicions of the parliamentary committee-men. They therefore lingered by the side of Jobson, and gave him a private intimation of their design, directing him to come to the park-wall at midnight, where they would provide, not only for his support, but attempt to cure his wound, as habit had now made them expert surgeons. Jobson could scarcely be confined to whispering his acknowledgements. "Give me the use of my leg again," said he, "and let the King's colours fly in what part of England they will, Ralph Jobson shall stand by the side of them."
Each party was true to the appointment, and the tender chirurgeons perceived with pleasure, that Jobson's lameness proceeded rather from neglect and unskilful treatment, than from such an injury of the muscles as excluded all hope that their action could be restored. His adventures were told to Colonel Evellin, who insisted that his fellow-sufferer should become an inmate of his apartment. "Soldiers," said he, "can talk over wars and sieges together, and pray for better times. The tedious hours will pass pleasantly, enlivened by that gallant fellow's simplicity; and, if Morgan thinks that it is worth while to let loose his blood-hounds in search of a lame beggar, he may, at the same time, unearth another who has nothing but his life to lose. Calamities like ours level all distinctions; and why is the breath which animates the ruined representative of fallen greatness more valuable than that which inspires the heroism and cheerful patience of an honest trooper. Yet courage, my girl; the blood of Neville is not wholly contaminated; and when I cease to give thee anguish, thou and Arthur shall restore its purity."
The family considered on Colonel Evellin's request, and as none but themselves knew of Jobson's first retreat, they thought the safety of their noble charge would not be hazarded by indulging him with a companion. It was, however, still deemed expedient to conceal his name and connexion with the Beaumonts, and to describe him to Jobson only as a loyal officer, disabled by hard service, who sought concealment till he was sufficiently recovered to leave England. Jobson rejoiced in the change of apartments. The tincture of superstition, which was universal in those times, gave him a great reluctance to being hid in a monument, though he disguised his general apprehension of supernatural beings under the pretence of dislike to Sir William Waverly. "If it had been a loyal gentleman's tomb," said he, "I dare say I could have slept in it all night very well, but I know the Baronet was no better than a rebel in his heart, and the malice of those scoundrels is not cured by knocking their brains out. To say the truth, my teeth chattered in my head, and my legs twitched so about, that I am sure I never should have got well while I staid there."
Jobson's light heart now foreboded that his wound would quickly heal, and that the brave gentleman, who was his companion in affliction, would take him to be his servant, when he should be able to leave England; he, therefore, settled in his own mind, that he would stay in Colonel Evellin's service till the King sent for him to make him a Beef-eater. The concealed Loyalists soon fell into that intimacy which suffering in the same cause naturally inspires. Adversity is a great leveller, not only of artificial distinctions, but also of personal qualities. The dispossessed nobleman, and the village-ploughman, conversed familiarly together of many a hard-fought day. The scene of their warfare lay in different parts of the kingdom; but each listened with painful interest to the details of the other: Evellin ruminating on the errors which had ruined the King's cause, Jobson cursing the knaves who betrayed, and the traitors who beheaded, him.
"I cannot help making free with Your Honour," said Jobson, "though I see by all your ways you are a right true gentleman, and not like the Rump-tinkers and Old Noll's make-believes. You would hardly think, merry as I seem with you, that I am very sad at heart: not about Madge Jobson, my wife as was; no, let her go where she will, for she always was a bad one; but 'tis about that noble family that are so good to us both. And that pretty Mistress Constance, as sighs so when she bandages up my knee; sweet creature! she thinks she hurts me, but I would not cry out if she did; for I have a story I could tell her would make her sigh more, and look paler than she does, though she is now as white as a coward marching up to a charged battery."
Colonel Evellin inquired what story. The remembrance of his son was ever present to his mind; but the indelible shame of his public disgrace had prevented him from alluding to him, or asking Jobson if he had ever met him during the campaign of 1645: and the deep feeling of affectionate grief prevented Jobson from naming the gallant youth to the good gentleman, who seemed, he thought, to want to have his spirits raised, and was too cast down to be diverted with melancholy stories.
Jobson now begged the Colonel to satisfy his doubts whether it was right to make his benefactors unhappy. "As a friend of the family," said he, "and a wise man, I wish to consult you. They don't seem to know what is become of Mr. Eustace Evellin, had I better tell them or not?"
Though long and intimately versed in the discipline of severest misery, Colonel Evellin was forced to turn away his face to conceal his paternal perturbation. "If," said he, "since the public rebuke of Lord Hopton, he has again disgraced his lineage, bury his shame in that oblivion which I hope now covers his body; but, if he lived long enough to redeem his honour, tell me his history."
Jobson gazed with indignant surprise on his agitated companion. "If," answered he, "you had not fought as nobly as you have for the King, I would not bear to hear you talk about Mr. Eustace Evellin's redeeming his honour before he lost it. Why, it was all a mistake of the old Lord's when the cowards and traitors drove him distracted; and so he thought Mr. Eustace one of them, because now and then they tippled together. Aye, he has been sorry enough for it since: but Generals should be careful what they say, for Lord Hopton ruined one of the fairest young gentlemen that ever was born."